Malphas
by Yoshishisha
Summary: What is a Devil King to do when he is bored as Hell? Take a vacation to the living realm , of course! And as chance will have it, it is a bored Devil King that comes one day to the quaint suburb of Privet Drive, few years before a certain baby is dropped on the Dursley's doorsteps. And a whole generation of children (wizarding and muggle) is affected by the Devil's presence.
1. The Devil King is Bored

He commanded armies. Terrifying ones. Soldiers devoid of pity, and filled with hatred, rage and lust. He thrived in the pain of his opponents, grew in the despair of his enemies, delighted in torturing the damned and generally enjoyed his status as the scariest BAMF to ever exist.

He was the Devil King… And he was bored as Hell.

He couldn't really remember the very beginning of his existence – after all, who ever did? – but he did know that he was a pure demon, born out of two demonic creatures, not one of those humans who somehow got transformed. What he did remember, though, was the constant power struggle that permeated his existence. He didn't have time to be bored then, too busy was he getting stronger in order to fend off various attackers who weren't above killing the young in order to ascertain their power over the masses. And then he'd served in the legions of Hell, under one of the greatest generals he'd ever known, before he eventually took over the position once his superior was killed. Then came the turning point in his life: after centuries of work, he'd finally become the Devil King.

Sure, it had been amusing funny for the first century or so: he'd just killed assassinated the previous Devil King after all;, he was bound to feel some kind of power high. But it had gotten dull a few decades after that, during which all the more moderately powerful demons had attempted to take advantage of the power vacuum. After those years of action came the years of boredom, during which the challengers were few and far in between. He'd tried to find new ways to abate his boredom, but being evil all the time had gotten tedious after a while.

His current plan had (ironically enough) come from one of his torture victims, who'd been bloody pissed (literally)at having his faults and sins pointed out to thrown back at him on the rack.

"You'll never under understand what it's like up there," the sorry excuse for a man had spat, incensed. "You'll never understand, 'cause there ain't nothing human in you, you blasted freak of a monster!"

Of course, the prisoner had then (completely coincidentally, mind you) contracted some rare kind of bug that ate through his internal organs and kept him from sleeping at the same time, but he'd deserved it. However, like one of those annoying courtesans who wanted to become the Devil Queen (and just wouldn't understand that no, he didn't need one and yes, he was perfectly fine with being single forever), the words had taken root in his the Devil King's mind and started to fester and grow inside it until they could no longer be ignored.

Yes, he would grace the living world with his presence. After all, he had been ruling the underworld for more than a century; he was long overdue for a vacation.

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**The idea for this fic came to me from reading _The Mind Can Make a Heaven of Hell_ by _TardisIsT_****_heOnlyWayToTravel_, where "Sherlock is actually the Devil, but he decided to live as a mortal because ruling Hell was boring". I asked for permission to use the idea, but I still haven't gotten an answer yet. If the answer is positive, I'll continue the fic. If not, it might get deleted, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.**

**Hope you enjoyed, so leave a review if you can!**


	2. So He Makes a Plan

The Devil King stood alone in the deepest recesses of the underground, deeply lost in his thoughts. It was there that he went when he wanted to think alone, and everyone knew not to disturb him in those occasions under threat of extreme torture. In that place, he could sometimes disappear for years at a time, and no one would be the wiser, making it the perfect place to put his plans in gear. Indeed, as he was the Devil King, very few individuals actually got to witness his appearance, because he spent most of his time in his palace or the dungeons. This had the added effect of making his life easier for two reasons: it kept up his fearsome reputation with barely any effort on his part, and it enabled him to disappear whenever he wanted as long as no idiotic weakling tried to challenge him for his position while he was on leave. After all, if he wanted to stay on Earth for a while, it wouldn't do for some upstart demon to find and kill his mortal form off before he could abate his boredom, right? Then he'd be right back in Hell and the boring cycle would start again.

So there he was, trying to devise a plan for his stay in the mortal realm. The first question he needed to solve was: which form would he choose to take? That seemingly benign question was deceptively important, as from it would stem all the other variables. He obviously wouldn't become any form of animal as they tended to be dreadfully weak, dumb and dull, whereas the most interesting amongst them had a tendency to get captured and chained or branded by the various humanoid species. And even if he somehow managed to avoid such a dreadful fate – he **was **the Devil King after all – he would either need to find an intelligent conversationalist amongst his own species (doubtful), or he would need to find an intelligent being of another species to do the same (even less probable, mostly due to the language barrier).

Animals thus removed from the pool of possibilities, his only other options were humans or intelligent magical beings. And as much as he wanted to abate his boredom by making his life as interesting as possible, human was just too weak of a form for him to even consider, what with their pathetic lack of healing abilities or other such aptitudes that would give them an advantage over other species. No, what he wanted was a form that was resilient and would make blending in easier in the rest of the human population. It wouldn't do for them to realize that there was a predator in their midst, after all.

Those terms immediately took away the options of becoming a centaur, an elf or a goblin, and as there was no such thing as a male veela, he would refrain from experiencing life as a female. Such a decision also had the added effect of keeping him from experiencing that dreadful state they called "period". While he was all in favour of pain (he dished it out on a daily basis), he didn't wish to suffer without any real benefit coming from it. The only benefit was, in fact, more of a drawback to him. Indeed, he was very open to indulging in his baser desires, but the thought of ever running the risk of falling pregnant? It definitely put a damper to any ideas of experiencing life as a female. Unless, maybe, if he was to choose the form of a female vampire: not only would he not have to experience those dreadful "periods", but there would also be no risk at all of him ever suffering through pregnancy (vampires being biologically frozen in time, and all that).

In fact, the only humanoid species he could even envision taking were either that of a vampire or of a werewolf. Of course, he could also choose to be a wizard, but where would be the fun in that? It would just serve to make ridiculously overpowered compared to the rest of the population which, while initially amusing, would rapidly become boring after a short while (just like being the Devil King, if he thought about it).

Still, decisions, decisions… Fangs once a month or all year long? Weakness to the sun or to the moon? Painful transformation or constant blood cravings? Higher than average resilience or near invulnerability? Feral appearance or unearthly looks? Amber eyes or scarlet ones? Eternal life or slightly longer lifespan? Each form had its advantages and disadvantages, which kept the Devil King from easily reaching a conclusion.

Finally, after a few years of deliberation, a decision was reached. He wanted his stay in the mortal realm to be as interesting as possible, while still enabling to appear a somewhat normal individual. The cons of each species were unfortunate, but would keep his life from being unchallenging. After all, wasn't invulnerability exactly what he was attempting to avoid?

His decision taken, the Devil King stood up to take care of the preparations. The Mortal Realm would never know what hit it…

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**Chapter's a bit longer this time :D**

**I'll be fast and express my most heartfelt thanks to _Azadrie _and _MindsetSymphony _for adding this story to their favourite list. I did a funny giddy dance when I got that info, which caused my friends to look at me strangely for that. But I don't care XD**

**Next time, the Devil King will make his much awaited entrance in the Mortal Realm! Can some of you guess where it'll be? *hint hint, look at the category***

**Leave a review if you've got time, I'd love to read what you liked and didn't like (or any other comments, really).**

**Seeya in a week!**


	3. Starts a New Life

Thus, October 31st of the year 1978 – Halloween was a day known amidst every demon for the weakness of the veil between the realms – saw a fairly handsome young man by the name of Mark Evergreen move into the quaint and quiet suburb of Privet Drive, in Surrey. He was evidently immediately assaulted (in his own words) by a horde of benevolent neighbours who then proceeded to re-enact a non-violent version of the Spanish Inquisition with him as the victim.

Needless to say that it was an interesting challenge for the one who used to be the Devil King. Not that he wasn't at that specific moment, but he wanted to stay as inconspicuous as possible and establish a reputation as the nice, but shy, new arrival. As such, his usual intimidation tactics wouldn't do, which prompted him to use his well-honed diplomacy skills (also called: the art of bullshitting).

"So what prompted you to move to our peaceful little neighbourhood?"

That was Mrs. Number 8 asking. Her smile could have (and probably had) fooled most people into believing that she was expressing genuine interest and curiosity, but to the King of Hell, there was a positively saccharine vibe to it that enabled him to know that she was only waiting to find a weakness to exploit.

"A-Ano…" he stuttered slightly to confirm his new persona. "My mother has recently been transferred to a nearby hospital due to an illness she contracted, so I decided to move closer to it in case she ever needs me," he admitted, twirling the pen he'd been holding nervously.

Hook, line, and sinker, he thought as he watched his new neighbours' faces shifting appropriately into expressions of sympathy, not all of them genuine, though. An appropriate sob-story would go a long way into making everyone believe that he was the perfect son, and he'd secured an alibi for his random absences at the same time. Stroke of genius, if he said so himself.

"A-ano, is that what you said?" another woman, this one with a horse-like neck, asked inquisitively. "That sounds foreign…" she then commented seemingly lightly.

The Devil King – _no, Mark_, he reminded himself – internally frowned at the sudden change in expression displayed by the people surrounding him. Whereas their faces had shown sympathy scant seconds before, they were now filled with poorly-veiled contempt, except for a few of those that seemed to be resisting the temptation of rolling their eyes at their fellow human beings' behaviour. Mark made note of these faces, and vowed to stay on good terms with them. After all, it wouldn't do at all to antagonize the few non-xenophobic inhabitants of the neighbourhood.

"Ah, yes, I apologize" _for speaking more languages and being better educated than you_, he added silently as he kept an expression of contrite embarrassment on his face.

"_Ano _is a mark of hesitation or uncertainty in Japanese." The looks of scorn deepened at that statement, but Mark still faked obliviousness as he went on. "My father had several business deals with various countries around the world and had me learn the languages of the most important of them," he admitted, watching the scornful expressions fall.

And that was Mrs. Number 4 foiled. She might resent him for a while, but as he hadn't shown any indication of knowing what she was up to, she wouldn't consider it a direct attack on herself. It also had the added benefit of keeping him open to further dialogue if need ever be.

And he'd been right to feign ignorance, for no sooner had the words left his mouth that her husband that a beefy man with a rather fetching mustache let out an angry mutter.

"Blasted invaders taking our jobs and forcing good honest folks like us to learn their barbarian language…"

Mark kept up a simple noncommittal smile at that comment from Mr. Number 4, acting as though he had not heard it. He'd perfected that talent after long years of listening to insults uttered behind his back in Hell. Granted, his reaction then had been to let out a frightening grin, but changing the degree of his smile wasn't that hard; he just needed to show less teeth, and voilà!

The next hour or so was spent answering other inane questions and listening to idiotic drivel, all the while spinning a reputation as a soft spoken bachelor with a naturally positive disposition. He'd almost had to invite them all for tea as a good neighbour should, but managed to excuse himself of this particular neighbourly duty, citing his bachelor status (those kind of activities required a lady's touch after all) and the fact that he hadn't unpacked everything yet as excuses.

He finally gave himself permission to sigh in relief as the last of the neighbours trickled out of his driveway. It honestly felt like being back in Hell for a while: the subtle power play, the interrogation in which everyone tried to find a weakness to exploit in their adversary… Who knew that there would be so much backstabbing in what was supposed to be a tranquil suburb?

Now, if only he could find the source of that sense of foreboding he'd felt ever since he'd stepped foot in the area…

* * *

**Newest chapter up today! I'm trying to make them a bit longer, but I'm not sure how successful I was in that endeavour.**

**Next chapter, the Devil King gets a job! ^.^ Now, I Wonder if any of you will manage to find what it will be... I put a hint in the summary, if you'd like o know.**

**PM or review the answer if you'd like XD**

**See you in a week!**


	4. And Gets a Job

When he'd chosen a form to take during his stay in the mortal realm, the Devil King knew that it was only the first step in his elaborate plan. After all, people needed much more than just a body to live comfortably: they needed clothes, food, shelter... Money could take care of any of the previously mentioned issues easily enough. The only true problem he'd seen at the time had been that everything left a paper trail in the mortal realm.

Well... not everything per see, but enough of it that it would be overly difficult to simply attempt to make up fake papers or do without.

So he'd made an amendment to his self-imposed rule of no magic, and had created himself a new identity, with no mortal being the wiser. A little bit of forgery (no one would guess just by looking at him, but he was a champion of the domain) and bam! He'd found himself the son of a middle class businessman, and had found himself a mother in the coma ward of a nearby hospital.

An only child with a busy father and a comatose mother; that would take care of explaining any of his more questionable personality traits quite nicely, wouldn't it?

Which led him to his current situation...

In order to fit in amongst the perfectly ordinary citizens of Privet Drive, he would need to be perfectly ordinary himself. And the first step in accomplishing such an endeavour was to get a steady source of income: in other words, a job.

He'd thought long and hard about this issue, even when he'd been back in Hell. As such, he knew exactly which criteria his new occupation would need to meet before he even considered taking it.

First, it would need to have some semblance of variety and unpredictability on a day to day basis. Indeed, his goal in coming into the mortal realm was, and still remained, the avoidance of boredom. As such, it wouldn't do to get a dull and predictable employment (furthermore, he knew he'd snap and kill someone if such a thing ever happened: God knew it had happened often enough back in Hell).

Second, he would need to have some sort of social interactions at work. As much as he disliked his persona of an inoffensive nice young man – well, not really, because he did enjoy tricking the hapless mortals although it wasn't as funny when his victims didn't realize they were being tricked – he did see the importance and the necessity of it. And without social interactions, the potential for causing chaos would be severely diminished. After all, screwing with people's heads was a prime way of causing such disorder. And he did so love the delicious expression of utter betrayal on his interlocutor's face whenever his treachery was revealed (if it ever was)... Almost as much as he thrived in the look of despair and horror that crossed their face when they realized his true identity.

But lastly, and in his opinion most importantly, he wanted whatever he would accomplish as a result of his work to last even after he'd be long gone... And not in the sense that he'd have a statue to his image, or anything even remotely similar to that. The Devil King – Mark, he reminded himself – didn't want his trace on this realm to be purely physical, left to wither away through the course of time.

No, he wanted to stay in the populace's mind – perhaps even unconsciously – for a very long time, to have his very own urban legend bearing his name, to brand the collective mindscape for generations to come... And he knew exactly the way to accomplish this goal.

Those were the thoughts that had led Mark to approach his building of interest.

"Surrey's primary school," he intoned slowly as he plastered a politely gentle smile upon his features, before stepping foot inside his future place of employment. Or at least, it would become such if everything went according to plan.

* * *

Less than an hour later saw him sitting in front of the headmaster of the establishment, in the latter's office, for an impromptu interview.

"So, you are telling me that you have come here in order to become a teacher in this fine establishment..." the old man (by young mortal standard) trailed off leadingly.

"Yes, indeed. Although – if you do not find it too bold of me to do so – I must express my surprise as to the fact that you are offering me an interview right away: it was my understanding that I wouldn't be able to expect one before a few months, at least..."

And hadn't THAT been a pleasant surprise... The newly-dubbed Mark – he still had yet to get used to that pedestrian name – had expected to need to drop his CV and confirm his (forged) credentials at various establishments, before even having a chance of being considered for a teaching position. As luck would have it, however – and considering that he was the Devil, maybe he shouldn't have been too surprised – he'd had the chance of being hired straight away into the first school he'd walked into, and was at that very moment discussing his various employment possibilities with its principal.

"You would habitually be correct. However, while all of our teaching positions are presently filled, some of our teachers may find themselves in need of an assistant for specific lessons, whereas others might need a replacement should they be sick, injured, or otherwise unable to fulfill their duties for an unspecified length of time," the principal explained calmly. "As such, a young man such as you would be adequate to fulfill that role, and it could enhance any further possibility of advancement in this fine establishment," he ended rather condescendingly.

The Devil Mark – or should it be the Mark King? He'd definitely have to proceed by steps to get used to that name – nodded pensively and slowly, reflectively curbing the impulse of donning the short imperious nod he'd grown used to giving his subordinates. So it seemed like several of the principal's staff was nearing retirement, thus leading the old man opposite to him to search for a young man eager to prove his worth, and a bit naive and timid enough to not bite more than he was given…

Interesting…

The teacher-to-be pondered his options, before realizing that he only had the one he had been given by the director if he wanted to "fit in". And by the sharp edge of his interlocutor's smile, the old man knew it too.

So Mark did the only thing his chosen persona could do. He smiled -so different from his razor sharp smirks – gently and accepted the position with the refrained enthusiasm of an ecstatic young man attempting – and failing – to look indifferent.

For that was his first step in his conquest of Privet Drive… and the whole of the mortal realm!

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**Em... Hi? I know it's been *checks update date* about two months since I last updated, so I would like to apologize for the terrible lateness of this chapter. I tried to make it a bit longer as a forgiveness present, but I'm not sure how successful I've been in that endeavour... Anyhow, I really have no good excuse besides the fact that I've been swamped with work lately, but I'll try to get the next chapter out towards the end of this month, so wish me luck!**

**And I must thank all of you who've kept following/favouriting/reviewing this story, because that's what motivated me to get this chapter out as soon as I finished it, so thank you!**

**Our favourite Devil King now has a job! Am I the only one happy about it? And kudos to all of you who guessed his occupation ^.^ Tell me what you thought or would like to see next :)**


	5. First Day Is Hell

**Haha, hi? Please don't throw the sticks and stones just yet, I'm kinda back… Sorry for the long absence, I did do some stuff during it though. So yeah, I discovered my posting a chapter every week thing didn't work, so I decided to try and post them as I go, making sure that there's no more than one week between every post (including all my stories). So you definitely won't have to wait as long for the next one :S**

**Without further ado, unto the story!**

**-Yoshishisha**

* * *

The Devil King groaned as he rubbed his temples in aggravation and vowed to kill the puny human who'd invented that trick as it definitely_ didn't _work! He threw a quick look around, his eyes pausing on the textbooks scattered haphazardly all over the room. That was nothing remarkable in and of itself, considering that he was in a classroom, meaning that textbooks were expected. Nothing if one completely disregarded the jagged wound that marred its center.

He both thanked and cursed himself - for the sixth time that day - for the fact that he'd had the foresight of keeping himself from having magic. After all, if he'd had his magic while he had been teaching, none of those God-forsaken - yes, he was perfectly aware of the irony of his statement - brats would have made it out of the classroom in one piece. They'd have made it out alive, of course - because it wouldn't have been any fun without a bit of torture - but they'd have lost bits and pieces of themselves nonetheless.

He grinned a grin with way too many teeth at that thought, a grin that would've led any inhabitant of Little Whining running for the hill in hushed terrified whispers. Nonetheless, he remarked as he surveyed the damage he'd done to the room as soon as the little monsters had left, his self-control was a great deal better than he'd thought: three gutted textbooks, a whole pack of multi -coloured chalks reduced to fine powder, two shelves that had quite obviously had some rather heavy objects thrown at them, and a few upturned desks…

_I should be more careful next time_, he thought as he started putting the desks back into place. For there was no doubt in his mind that there _would_ be a next time. It wasn't that the Devil King didn't have enough self-control to restrain himself; it was just that he didn't care to exercise it beyond the minimum necessary to keep his environment mostly sane and entertaining. In fact, it was actually quite surprising that no one had come to investigate the noise already, but he wasn't one to refuse a gift in the hellhound's maw.

_Damned, I spoke too fast_, Mark thought as his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly right before the door was wrenched open – or so it would have been had the person opening it had more force – suddenly.

"What the bloody hell happened here!" the ordinarily bubbly teacher – Annie? Fanny? No matter – demanded, her voice laced with incredulity.

Mark's well-trained mind didn't even have to race in order to find a believable excuse, his face having already adopted a contrite expression as soon as the blonde woman – Fanta? Lana? – had come in. The only wrench in his plan was the decidedly unMark smirk that wanted to bloom on his face at the woman's casual use of his kingdom.

"Ano, I-I was t-trying to r-rearrange the book-kshelves," he forcibly stuttered in apparent nervousness, rubbing the back of his ear while looking at the ground for good measure.

"And..?" the damnably curious woman asked again, though her tone had lost some of its suspicion and incredulousness.

"I m-might… have l-let my… clumsiness t-take over… and t-tripped a little… then f-fallen on the desks… and d-dropped my pens… and"

He let his voice become inaudible as he kept mentally burning a hole into the ground with his gaze, purposefully keeping his expression as contrite and embarrassed as possible. Would it be too much if he made himself blush as well?

There was a moment of silence during which he took care to shuffle in what could pass as an uncertain fashion while he surreptitiously spied the other teacher taking stock of the damage done to the room.

"Aww, poor dear," was his reply as the woman moved to engulf him in a hug, apparently deeming the damage superficial enough.

Mark took care to keep the contrite expression on his face as he slowly raised his head. _No way am I letting this puny creature engage in some misguided attempt of affection on my person_, he mentally growled as he displayed earnest eyes instead of the fierce glare he wanted to pin her with - if looks could kill usually wasn't an exaggeration when he wanted them to. Nonetheless, it seemed like the squishy had somehow felt his repeated waves of anger, disdain, and murderous intent, as she stopped her assault in favour of making a suggestion.

"Don't worry," she uselessly attempted to comfort him with a smile that could've made even one of those feathery-dusters angels pricks develop cavities. "I'll call the janitor to help you clean this up alright?"

"Ano, you-you really don't…"

The door shut close, taking that thrice-cursed happy-go-lucky damnable ray of bloody sunshine with it.

"Have to."

This time, the words were spat without any hint of a stutter, and a slight rise in killing intent could've been felt by anyone sensitive enough to such things. Fortunately - or unfortunately, for the Devil King would have liked to see someone cower in terror of him once again - there was no one of such talent anywhere within the vicinity of Little Whinging, and probably not within all of Surrey either.

The Devil King hurriedly left the premises, unwilling to jeopardize his vacation by letting loose the mass-murdering tendencies that would no doubt resurface should he be forced to spend as little as one second in one of the humans' presence.

_Would it even be that bad to kill a few of the brats? It's not like anyone will miss them, really… _The Devil King shook his head to get rid of the temptation. No, not just yet… It would be better to put his murderous intents to more… creative uses. He grinned in a way that had sent many demons to the rack voluntarily in order to get away with the horrifyingly creative torture that usually followed. He had six days before his next teaching assignment: that left him plenty of time to devise a revenge to fit the crime.

He was the Devil King after all; no one would tell him off for being vindictive.


	6. And it Gets Worse

It didn't take long for the Devil King to grow accustomed to his life as Marcus Evergreen, he mused as he looked around himself. He was currently sat in Number 10's living room, where he'd allowed himself to be entrapped in order to escape the men's boisterous presence outside. Loathe as he was to admit to such a failing in his personality, the Devil King did believe in lying to everyone but himself, which compelled him to acknowledge that he was starting to miss his kingdom (just a little bit). In fact, the closest he'd come to the cutthroat world of The Underside had been in situations very similar to his current one: daintily sipping tea with the bitter biddies of the neighbourhood.

"I trust you've found yourself liking our calm neighbourhood then."

Ah. There it was. _The Designated Spokesperson_, the Devil King though mildly. She'd been introduced as Earhart, a scant weeks ago. Marcus had already forgotten her name, but her function had remained loud and clear in his mind. Always the one to speak first, usually with some inane comment about his adaptation to their community.

"It has been a welcome change from my previous place of residence," he answered, fiddling with his teacup in a show of nervosity. It was the most honest answer he could give at the moment, for he couldn't say he liked it just yet.

The women smiled politely at his answer, even though Mrs Number 4 seemed to positively preen as though she had been the one to make him like the neighbourhood. On the other hand, Mrs Number 12 seemed to eye him with a positively predatory grin, as though she knew something he didn't…

_What a perplexing possibility_, Marcus thought as he simply ducked his nose into his tea to hide his frown. _It seems I may have been hasty in my judgement of my neighbours._

Letting the conversation flow around him, he threw a quick glance to the wall clock nearby. About 50 minutes left before it could be considered polite to leave.

On the other hand, the Devil King absolutely loathed the pubs. He detested them with an intensity that nearly surpassed his disdain for compassion. However, much as he abhorred that sweaty, smelly, noisy environment, it was expected for a man of his age to lose himself there every once in a while. _Those sorry excuses for sentient beings are surpassing my underlings, as far as incompetent depravity goes_, he realised as he observed a specific group of individuals.

Wrinkling his nose, the Devil King silently wished he'd chosen to incarnate as a creature with a an average sense of smell as his nose was assaulted by the acrid scent of alcohol and sweat. That situation certainly wasn't helped by the previously mentioned group who seemed to be attempting to out drink each other and see who could spill the most alcohol around them. The only non-human being in the room was dismayed to find that he recognised one of the bawdy drunkards as a neighbour of his. He once again pondered upon the possibility of a discrete camera that could enable him to have a permanent proof of misbehaviour for blackmail possibilities. Unfortunately, the current technology for that purpose was too bulky to be of any use to him at the moment: short of a notice-me-not or a tremendous technological advancement, he'd need to another way to fulfill that purpose.

With a heavy sigh and a still mostly full bottle of beer, the Devil King stood up to make his way to the door. As he passed by the group of drunkards on his way to the exit, he waved a goodbye to a few faces he was expected to be familiar with, hiding his dropping of the bottle in that same movement. He didn't pay attention to the brawl that started after one of the drinking men tripped on the discarded bottle, thus spilling his own on someone else. Instead, the newly arrived being thought about the vast superiority of demons over this human race. His underlings at least recognised their limits, and usually tended to not let down their guards. Granted, it was most probably because those who did were often captured by less scrupulous ones, then sent to be tortured in the dungeons or mysteriously disappeared, but still… one would expect humans to have more decorum than the damned.

After all of those encounters, the Devil King could only reach one conclusion: he was surrounded by delusional, meaningless parasites filled with self-importance. He could barely even remember why he'd chosen to pretend to be one of them for the duration of this vacation! Why was he continuing this charade anyways? _Because this has become a challenge_, he reminded himself. For it was all too true. What had started as a simple vacation had become a challenge, a way to surpass himself and prove that he could very well be something other than the amorphous entity most thought about when they knew his title.

Still… As he relaxed fists he hadn't even realised had been clenched, the Devil King remembered urges he'd felt all too often since he'd arrived. Much as he appreciated tearing people filled with self-importance apart with an acerbic wit hidden behind a thin veneer of obliviousness, he couldn't properly destroy them yet. Similarly, as enjoyable as gearing people up to fight one another was (with or without the use of alcohol as a catalyst), it was all too easy and indirect for the act to offer him more than a fleeting amount of satisfaction.

He clenched his teeth and paced wildly around his living room, silently bemoaning the fact that he couldn't afford to do more than that due to the presence of noisy parasitic neighbours who were probably spying his every action from their windows. The Devil King hissed as he was reminded of the main source of his dissatisfaction: it was exacerbated by the extended company of those damnable little brats! Now, as the ruler of Hell, he was rather disinclined to use damnable as an insult: it was a correct qualifier for about every soul that could be found in his kingdom, after all. Furthermore, for all that he tortured them, the Devil King did in fact appreciate his subjects. Those brats however… He stopped stomping around, twisting his body to enable it to fall onto the nearby couch. They were not only annoying; they were also stupid as an angel!

Because of that, they seriously tested his test-control as his usual method of anger management (annihilating the problem) could not be applied at the moment. That left him with the mediocre option of focusing his destructive urges onto his environment. As a matter of fact, he was starting to run out of excuses to explain why his classes were so overturned at the end of the day.

"My apologies ma'am, I tripped again," was an excuse he'd used at least thrice so far on a few people who'd been curious of the amount of noise that could be heard coming from his classroom. Not one of his best, he had to admit, but Marcus Evergreen was quickly becoming known for his clumsiness, which now reduced the amount of visits he got due to strange noise in his class.

"Sorry miss, I had to break up a fight," was one he seldom used, as he could never remember the children's names in order to get them to the principal. As such, he only used it when children had actually gotten into brawl, and generally managed to shift the blame onto the children's parents and managed to make whoever he was talking to forget about the event.

Any and all variations of multiple excuses had already been used to explain the increasing damage. None of them were entirely truthful, of course, as all of it had been done by him, but the Devil King did pride himself in not needing to lie in order to mislead others. And the slow escalation of his loss of temper was how he knew that heads would roll (literally), unless he managed to find a way to release his pent up anger.

Raising his eyes to watch the sky through his window, the Devil King realised that the moon was close to whole. He'd been caught unaware by the first full moon after his arrival, and had to lock himself in the basement in order to go through his transformation alone. Only his pride and general dislike of lack of control kept him from making a racket loud enough to wake the neighbours. The Devil King prided himself on his perfect track record: he was not about to relocate because he behaved like a common mutt. Judging by the lunar calendar he'd bought after the incident, the next full moon would be the following Thursday. And he definitely wouldn't be around for that one.

* * *

**So, it seems like I'm finally back? After something of a 10-months break, yikes! I seem to have improved my word count though, so that might make up for some of it...**

**And here we've got the Devil King's thoughts about his new neighbourhood. We'll probably get the full moon in the next chapter or two, so I'll keep my fingers crossed for that.**

**-Yoshishisha**


	7. But He'll Leave Soon

The full moon was coming up. And loath as he was to admit it, the Devil King hadn't gotten to the throne by making a habit of deluding himself: he could feel it in the slight straining of his body's bones. The time of his monthly transformation was coming fast, which meant that he should begin preparing the "visit to his mother".

Said preparation turned out to be more overt than he'd previously anticipated, to be frank. Back in Hell, words wouldn't even have been needed to let his intentions be known: the slightest shift in body language, or even routine would have been enough to alert most of his subjects to his general mood, at least. As for those who couldn't? Well, there was a reason why the chances of survival in his kingdom were very low amongst the youngest and brashest, wasn't there?

It was an altogether different experience for him to subtly broadcast his intentions amongst the humans, to say the least. How had they ever evolved to become the dominant life form of the Mortal Realm with such abysmal senses? Marcus had taken care to give them a ridiculous amount of non-verbal cues concerning his manufactured grief: he'd even compensated for the lack of his wings as physical cues! However, none of the humans even seemed inclined to pick up his signals.

Unless he was expected to start with the children first? His students were very much like puppies in that regard: should the slightest hint of nervousness be in the air, they would make as big a nuisance of themselves as they could until all trace of negative emotion had vanished. Surely that would make enough of a fuss so that the other adults realised there was something wrong?

As it happened, there was no need to involve the children in the end. The Devil King still hadn't found out a way to manipulate the humans into inquiring about his mental state, when one of his coworkers (after he had spent close to a week of non-verbal fidgeting) finally managed to piece the puzzle together.

"Is there an important event coming up?" The same woman who'd met him after his temper tantrum asked. Or was she? He never had taken the time to remember the insignificant features of the humans that surrounded him.

"How did you know?" Marcus deflected with his trademark awkward shuffle and rubbing of the ear. Whatever had tipped her off, the Devil King would need to know and exploit so that Marcus could be approachable to the plebeian masses. It would also let him know which of his cues were effective, as well as which weren't, so that he wouldn't spend a _positively egregious_ amount of time attempting to be subtle if he happened to have a use for this tactic again.

The woman fluttered her lashes rapidly in his direction before answering. "Oh, call it... female instinct," she revealed with a wink.

The Devil King almost rose to his full height in order to show how unimpressed he was by that answer. Was she mocking him? Was that what the fluttering lashes and the wink meant? How dare she, that miserable worm. Instead, Marcus blurted out the thought that had presumably been festering in his mind.

"I'm visiting my mum next week."

The Devil King had to acknowledge that he felt more than a smidgen of satisfaction when he saw her face freeze, then fall. So she knew the story then. Unsurprising, considering the inhabitants' propensity for gossip.

"Oh," she said simply, face stricken even as Marcus could read in the lines of her body that she planned to spread that juicy piece of gossip as soon as she was out of earshot.

Terrific. If everything went according to plan, the Devil King thought as he engaged in a bit of small talk, no one would wonder about his absence by the time the full moon came around.

Sure enough, by the next day, the rest of the staff had exhibited an increased amount of solicitude, with what they seemed to believe was subtlety. Why, that co-worker of his (he'd really need to learn her name, if only to keep up an appearance of interest) had even invited him to that bi-monthly event the neighbourhood apparently organised to "promote good neighbourly behaviour". Marcus accepted, of course.

It turned out to be (dare he say it?) even worse than expected. The Devil King was accustomed to thinking on his feet; a lifetime in Hell had conditioned him to make the most out of every situation and manipulate his surroundings. However, loath as he was to admit to such a failing on his part, he had miscalculated.

As it appeared, the speed of gossip was frighteningly quick on Privet Drive. And while the Devil King immediately assessed the use of such a feature for future occasions, he wasn't nearly as delighted by the increased amount of sympathies and solicitudes he received as a result.

Mrs Number 4 had clamoured to be the first one to speak to him, as though there was a competition of sort to be the first one to give him sympathies. He'd barely listened to her at first, but found his attention snapping to her words regardless as a fragment of a sentence caught his ear.

For all the care he took in not letting his expression shift an iota at the surprise her words brought him, she smirked sharply in a way that implied she'd managed to catch the sharpening of his gaze. Far from being bitter at the idea that his skills had already atrophied, he fought not to let his own lips lift as he recognised a challenge in her. She was, obviously, far from even suspecting his true nature (or even his true personality, as a matter of fact) but there was no denying the ruthlessness in her. No denying the fact that she was willing to do anything to rise to the top of her social circle or even exact revenge at some perceived slight.

Turning his gaze away from her without rising to the bait she'd offered, he melted away in the crowd, stoically bearing the numerous claps in the back from the male and fussing wishes from the females. His shoulders tensed and his back straightened as the evening went on, with little to no input from him. The dull ache that permeated his body was making itself known once more, and he knew what it meant: his wolf was growing closer to surface. Which meant that he'd need to leave as soon as possible before he killed someone.

For killing under the influence of his wolf would be very messy indeed, and adding irritation to the mix would just make a bad situation even more unbearable. As he said his goodbyes, shoulders tight and head tilted down to let his hair hide his eyes, the Devil King already fantasised about the destruction he would wreck on his way to his "mother's" hospital. The trip was long enough to justify taking a five day's leave, and by his reckoning, he would even have the time to leave at least two bodies in his wake. His back turned on the party, the current werewolf let a chilling grin take over his expression.

He could not wait.

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**Gosh, I have to admit this full moon business is getting away from me fast. By this chapter, I'd initially expected to have Harry already at Privet Drive, but it seems like that won't be the case. But the next chapter will have the full moon business (with a tiny little bit of murder) and Harry will be arriving the chapter after that. And don't worry, there will be a timeskip so I can get to his Hogwarts years faster :)**

**Thanks for all the love; I can't get over how much enthusiasm this story is getting. You're all awesome!**

**-Yoshishisha**


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